


Earthquake

by nightchandac



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Headcanon, Panic Attack, kotfe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 18:51:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5467283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightchandac/pseuds/nightchandac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Headcanon: Quinn has panic attacks, rarely, which is one of the reasons he’s as organized and efficient as he is.  He knows the signs and has developed ways to ground himself when he feels the galaxy is trying to swallow him up.  Sometimes it’s too much, and SW saw him in such a state once and he felt incredibly embarrassed and vulnerable, but she helped him just as she does with his nightmares…</p>
<p>Basically kotfe Quinn feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Earthquake

**Author's Note:**

> Quinn’s grounding method is: Find 5 things you can see, 4 things to touch, 3 things you can hear, 2 things you can smell, and 1 thing you can taste. 
> 
> Also written to Car Radio by Twenty One Pilots

It didn't happen often, but Quinn could feel his heart pick up pace, his breath harder to catch, anxious energy spiking through his limbs. _Breathe. Just breathe._ Sometimes the threats and weight of the galaxy became too much and his world shook, a violent earthquake. He felt as though everything was crashing down around him, the ground opening beneath his feet to swallow him whole and he had become skilled at remaining balanced, teetering on the edge but able to keep grounded. Sometimes...sometimes that deep, dark maw pulled too hard.

He took a quiet, shaky breath, filling his lungs and letting it out slowly, keeping a silent count of the seconds.

See

_She was seated on the couch in the lounge, her datapad in her lap and a blanket draped loosely over her shoulders. She sipped at her caf and Quinn smiled, finding calm in her peace. Soon, she'd finally face Baras, finally put an end to his madness, and she seemed completely at ease. He was terrified—for her, for them—but seeing her just...relaxing was enough to bring some peace to his racing thoughts. They would come out of this, they would be okay, everything would be fine._

 

Touch

_The world was spinning again, and Quinn slammed his hands onto his desk in front of him in an attempt to still it. He slowly straightened and squared his shoulders, rolling his neck slightly to ease the tension. His love sat at the console behind him, feverishly working on something he couldn't for the life of him remember. Slowly, he moved behind her and rested his hands gently on her shoulders, squeezing reassuringly. She was here, she was real. Almost drowning together on Manaan had shaken both of them, but as she sat behind a desk and worked on something as mundane as a report, his anxiety eased a little. Normalcy. That's all he needed: a bit of normalcy._

 

Hear

_Quinn hesitated just out of their line of sight as Vette told a joke or a story—sometimes it was hard to tell the difference—and his love's laugh filled the air. Moments when he found it hard to breathe, when his heart and thoughts raced each other and threatened to burst from him, the sound of her voice and her laugh and...he sighed, letting her happiness and calm flow around him. He took a deeper breath—in through the nose, out through the mouth, nice and slow—and felt more at peace._

 

Smell

_The bridge was getting hotter...or, was it his imagination? He shook his head, trying to focus on the report in front of him. It was no use, the stifling air became too much, his uniform feeling too tight. He'd worked well past when he was supposed to, trying to finish the large amount of paperwork before they made their way to Yavin 4, but as the hour grew later and silence filled the air as everyone went to bed, he found it hard to quiet his thoughts. He rose and made his way to their quarters, watching her fondly as she slept for a moment before he changed into his sleep clothes and crawled into bed behind her. He pulled her close, arm tight around her as though if he let go she'd disappear. As he closed his eyes, he breathed in her scent—lavender and honey—and let the peace of sleep come to him._

 

Taste

_They did it. They'd defeated Revan and they were still alive, all of them.  Everyone was riding the victorious high, adrenaline keeping them on their feet as they made their way back to the shuttle.  The nervous energy sprinting through Quinn was threatening to send him into panic, his mind and body unsure of how to process everything he was feeling.  Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed her, pulling her tightly to him and pressed his lips to hers, their mouths furiously working together as they matched energy, flowing from one another.  When they parted, his mind felt clearer, as impossible as he thought that would be after kissing her.  She was here, she was real, she was alive._

His chest felt tight, too tight, suffocating, the silence only broken by the rain pattering incessantly against the windows and the distant rolling thunder.  There was too much silence now.  He tugged at his collar, trying to loosen it and let the cool air touch his skin, to let him breathe, but the air was too thick.

Too often left alone with his thoughts, Quinn’s anxiety only grew and grew, left unchecked and untamed.  It was haunting and inescapable, becoming familiar like static in the background. 

Their apartment was too empty.  Too quiet.  Too big.  Too…too much.  Everything was wrong now, as if someone had moved everything an inch to the left. 

He ran through his list in his head— _see, touch, hear, smell, taste—_ to ground himself, but the world felt too surreal.  The pit threatening to swallow him up was only growing, expanding, stretching, and he was running out of room to run.

His solid ground was gone.

Quiet tears fell down his face as he tried not to disturb the silence, pressing a shaking fist to his mouth.  He ached for her arms around him, and as he curled into himself on the couch—in _her_ spot—he swore he could feel her there.  It wasn’t real and he knew he was losing his grip.

_No matter what anyone says—I know you’re alive and I will find you.  Even if it kills me._


End file.
